What Then Would You Have Me Do?, and: Low Fire, Brandy, and Other Considerations

104 CJ EVANS WHAT THEN WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO? I know about beetles and about warlords. About sunlight and those it aids to aim. I know hidden hands, and panic in the woods. The place beneath the overpass, the vacated spaces in beds. I know there are those who are right to hate, and children who may not get to be. I have seen visible ribs and the hanged, but my wife sleeps the sleep of a woman desperately loved and no I should not ever die. 105 CJ EVANS LOW FIRE, BRANDY, AND OTHER CONSIDERATIONS We are fragile, open to the press of unruly weathers, and houses are a comfort, but a house is not a cove. We fail to mark the weather that kills slyly, and we ignore that we are just other animals. In such comfort, I don’t want to forget that it might be necessary for me to kill. How could I shy from sleeping on bones? I may be another weather, and all these words may just be another way to hide. A house is not a skin, it is not an evolution, it is a place to flee to. Sometimes I hear the weather in my palm, cupped over my ear. The lights are low in my den, and I know my home. ...